


The Lion and the Maid

by ellethom



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Cannon, F/M, Future Fic, I Tried, I really did, honestly i think i read the directions wrong, jaime x brienne premiere fic challenge, this one was the only thing that came to me for the challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 01:24:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6635311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellethom/pseuds/ellethom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My entry for the 2016 Premiere fic challenge.  I don't think its what  was on the tin, but i wrote it anyway.  Anyway, enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lion and the Maid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ikkiM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikkiM/gifts).



> So this is my take on a premiere, its a little different from all the great fic that has already been posted here, but what the hell you only live once. 
> 
> No lyrics for the song, just imagine the Italian song sang at the wedding in the first Godfather movie. Bawdy and raunchy. 
> 
> I am also gifting this one to IkkiM who someone has pegged as the patron saint of Jaime and Brienne. I would have to agree.
> 
> Ikki, your stuff makes me laugh till i piss myself, hope you don't mind this little gift. Thanks for all the great shit you write and seriously don't ever stop.
> 
> Unbeta'd because i am a xenophobic hermit, all mistakes are mine damn it!

He considered her from his much smaller seat in the receiving hall at Evenfall. Jaime did not need four years of acquaintance nor vows to the seven to know his wife was angry. Oh, she held it well; no one in the hall would be able to interpret the clenched hands and pulsing vein on her head nearly the same color as the tunic she wore.

But, Jaime knew, he could feel it radiating off of her in cool waves that would result in some poor hay practice dummy reduced to finely milled silt.

The question wasn’t if she was angry but how to proceed with the utmost of caution and diplomacy that would not result with his sleeping on the opposite side of the castle for the remainder of his days.

“My Lady,” he tried with diplomacy first, not his usual tactic, but Jaime had learned much and more since being exiled to the island in lieu of harsher recompense for rendering the current monarch fatherless.

She did not even speak, merely turned her tow haired head to him and scowled. Not the normal ‘agitated at her husband’s antics scowl;’ this was more along the lines of a ‘perhaps it would be best if you did not speak for a few years’ scowl.

Jaime, however, was never one to know when to back away from danger. “It was a lovely—“

“Don’t!” she said through teeth gritted so hard Jaime feared she would pulverize them.

He shrugged and she turned to face the performers. Her face relaxed into a politically astute smile. “Gentleman.” She said, standing. Jaime hoped they were smart enough to know when they had been dismissed.

They weren’t.

The leader, a young man, tall and lean with a round face of youth framed by red hair. Jaime was sure the color of his tresses were only adding to Brienne’s anger. He prayed they did not offer her roses.

“My lady,” the tall fool with a death wish began. “If it pleases you—“

“It certainly does not please her.” Jaime decided to intervene in the hopes of avoiding any bloodshed that would only further irritate the servants who had enough to clean up from three children under the age of three. “It’s been a long day and closer to bed time than my good lady will admit to.”

She turned blues eyes to him again, her hands clenched further and Jaime offered her the smile that had left them with three children. “I know full well when bed time is, Ser.”

Ser it was then; a sure announcement that he would be spending at least one night out of his own bed. “All right.” Jaime said, “This has gone on long enough.” He stepped onto the stairs leading down to the main floor. “Everyone out.” He waved his stump as if he still wielded his sword with that hand.

The room began to clear; those in residence in the town and lords of minor keeps emptied out first; followed closely by those who need not be reminded how even an exiled Lannister stripped of everything could still pay a debt. “My lord,” walking dead man spoke again as his band members struggled to pull him out of the large double doors. “There is still more, that was only the first—“

“Right, right right.” Jaime said with a flick of his wrist. “I was there, I know well how this story ends,” Or, he mused to himself with a glance at his seething wife, I did until you showed up and may have caused me to lose another appendage I am fond of.

He turned to find the room empty save for two people. Jaime sighed and walked down the steps toward the pair. Brienne had sat again in her chair at the top of the dias; her face resting in her hands. “You too,” he said to the pair. “As if I could not figure out where most of those details came from.”

Tyrion laughed and raised his goblet to his brother. “I am sure I have no idea what you mean.“ He angled his large head around the tall figure of his brother. “The Lion and the Maid a beautiful song my lady, I do hope you let them finish it.”

Jaime clenched his jaw. “Have you not done enough damage?” he asked his brother. “Don’t you have your own wife to enrage? When was the last time you were at Winterfell? I’m sure she would relish the chance to be as miserable as the rest of us.”

“Misery?” Brienne flew down the stairs and glared at her husband. “Is this what this is?” She left a huff in the air as she stormed toward the wooden doors.

Jaime watched her go; knowing full well an immediate attack would leave wounds neither one of them wanted to add to. Oh but the forgiveness, the raw apologetic sex nearly made up for it. “Do you see what your minstrels have done?” he fell into the seat next to Bronn who drew from his own goblet and smiled. “Wives.” Bronn offered as explanation.

Jaime wanted to kill the once sellsword. “I am sure your wife would love a baudy song of her deeds, misdeeds and histories that would make a Lyseni whore blush.”

“You always did have a way with the overdramatics, Jaime.” Tyrion smiled. “It wasn’t that bad.” Tyrion downed his glass and held it out for Bronn to refill. The older man refilled it, but offered the small man a look of disdain. “And I doubt it is anger that made her flush from scalp to toe.”

Jaime turned on his brother. “My wife’s blushes are none of your concern. Where’s your wife again?”

“I thought it was a bit racy, I mean for this lot.” Bronn said refilling his own cup. “I could see why the little lady would dislike it.”

Jaime laughed at Bronn’s epithet for his wife, certain she would show him just how little she was in the training yard. “She isn’t like to forget this name day gift for quite some time, little brother.“ He took the cup from his brother and downed it. “Don’t forget, she’s Lannister enough to want to repay this debt in full.”

 

He found her in the nursery. The castle was sleeping and he would be too if his wife had come to bed. How did it come to this? He wondered to himself, Unable to sleep without my oversized pillow? “Brienne?” he whispered. She was on the floor of the room, sitting against the far wall.

Brienne shook her head and rose. “Not here,” she mouthed with a look to the cradle where their youngest daughter slept.

He motioned for her to follow him out of the room but she shook her head. He motioned again with what he had hoped would be interpreted as commanding. She shook her head again and stood her ground.

“How can we talk if we have to whisper?” he whispered across the room.

“It would be a problem if we were talking.” She answered just as quietly.

“This is ridiculous.” Jaime said, stepping closer to Brienne. “It was only a song.”

He could not see her face in the darkness of the candlelit room, but he felt when she shoved him aside and left the room. He followed her, though considering the foolishness of the action when his wife was obviously angry.

But he knew behind the anger was some hurt, some part of that bloody song had struck her harder than the casual dirty lyrics about the two of them.

She threw open the door to their room and he moved inside fast enough to miss her turn and slam it behind him.

“Brienne,”

Brienne grabbed his arm and tugged him toward their bed. She is going to kill me in our bed? He wondered.

Murder was not on her mind, unless one considered the little death.

Brienne tugged at his laces and tugged him free into her insistent hands. Confusion crawled through the mangled haze of passion that her rough movements had created. For an instant, shameful as it was, he was reminded of nights with his long dead sister. It was this traitorous thought that moved his fingers to still her movements. “Brienne,” he asked. “What is going on?”

“Do you not want to?” she asked with a shy smile tugging around the corners of her full lips.

“For future reference, and I cannot say this enough, the answer to that question is always a yes.” He kissed her face and licked her scar. “But, you were angry five seconds ago, and now…”

She moved to curl into him, his arousal stabbing toward the ceiling. “But, to be honest I was expecting actually swordplay after that song.”

“You should,” she said pulling at the hair sprouting through his ripped tunic. “You should be punished.” She smiled.

He wasn’t sure where she was going, but if Jaime figured if it lead to where she had started, it was going to be a long and beautiful night. “Really?” he grinned. “And who should punich me? “

She straddled him and ripped the rest of the tunic from him. Jaime frowned for only a moment, it had been his favourite shirt; but she was his favourite person. “That song,” she said with a grimace.

“Tyrion tells me it was a world premiere, no one had ever heard it before.”

“I hope they never play it again.” She sighed placing her head on his freed chest. “Its bad enough the other songs out there about us.”

Jaime nodded, they had heard enough of them as they made their way from the North after the sun had peaked out from six months of darkness. “Yes, but these are famous musicians, from the Queen’s court no less.”

“And you don’t see the issue with that?” she asked.

Jaime nodded. “Whatever the Queen feels about me I am certain she would not have the time to—Ah, yes well I knew that.” He smiled.

Brienne grunted and rolled off of his chest, he returned her grunt from her departure. “Your brother.” Brienne shook her head as she stood.

“He does have a sense of humor.” Jaime smiled.

“I would almost believe he doesn’t like me.” She said.

“You’d be wrong.” Jaime countered pulling her hand to entice her back onto the bed.

“I know that.” In fact, Tyrion had been the one instrumental in saving his brother’s life; his impassioned defense of the brother that had unknowingly wronged him had gone a long way to the agreement hatched at the foot of the Iron Throne. “But that song was completely inappropriate to be played in the main hall.”

“Is that what bothers you?” he asked. “Not the song itself, but the where?”

Brienne sighed. “I am the Evenstar.” She began.

“Which is why you get the bigger chair.”

“This, still?” she asked with a smile. “Its just a chair, husband.”

“It has cushions and,” he waved his hand, “Myrish lace.”

“Its just such a tragedy how you are made to suffer to sit in what was typically the Ladies seat.”

He turned to face her. “Its not even as comfortable as yours.”

Brienne sighed. “Fine, we will see to getting you a more, lordly seat. Will that put an end to this intermittent tirade?”

“Possibly.“ he smiled. “I am told there is more to the song.”

“I wish to hear the entire thing.” She admitted. ”But, some of the details…”

“My Lady, I have a brother and few friends other then he and you. I did share information with him regarding our…travels.”

“Jaime, they had so many details, did you have to share so much?”

He kissed her again to sooth away the hurt that crossed her brow. “When I was housed in the Red Keep after returning to King’s Landing, Tyrion and I had nothing but time to repair things between us.”

Brienne nodded, “You talked.”

“We did little else. Well he drank and I spouted off about this little chit of a girl who challenged my life choices and made me a better person.”

The smile that crawled across her face was inevitable and fierce. “He has a way with people, your brother. Especially you.”

“Especially me.” He nodded. “I think this is his way of paying a debt with kindness rather than wroth.”

Brienne considered his words. “Some of those lyrics, I am glad the children were already to bed.”

Jaime looked at his wife and considered the look in her eyes. She wasn’t angry when she left that room. “You were excited.” He smiled.

She pulled away before he could kiss her, the telltale truth climbed over her face in crimson. “It was not a fit song to be played in front of people loyal to my house, nor anyone other than …”

He took her hand, the smile that followed his lips crinkled around his eyes. “Need I remind you of simple maths, My Lady?” he asked. “I believe full term babes are nine moons, not three.”

She shoved him hard enough to send him off the edge of the bed. Brienne followed, landing on him with an ‘oomph.’ “I know well how you managed to seduce me in the North.” She said.

He laughed then, “Seduced you?” Brienne growled and shoved him again. “You cannot push me lower than the floor, wife. But, I will allow you to alter history as long as you allow the minstrels to finish their song. It is a name day gift after all.”

Brienne placed her head on his chest and sighed. His hand sifted through her straw colored hair; longer now but still as unmanageable. “Privately,” she insisted as if no one who attended their wedding did not notice the truth of the song that had caused her to turn redder than the cloak he had put around her shoulders three years before.

“Fine,” he smiled and was rewarded with a kiss. Battles were singular; a demand for one winner. Truces, as he had learned, were far better; truces always came with mutually beneficial boons.


End file.
